The Journey Home

The Journey Home
Linda Ford

Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesWhat unseen h guided Kody Douglas's horse to that bleak, windswept South Dakota farmhouse?The "half-breed" cowboy–a man of two worlds, at home in neither–would never know. But when he finds a lovely, vulnerable young woman there, aboned in the darkest hours of the Depression, he cannot simply ride away leave her.Charlotte Porter reluctantly follows this hard, embittered yet compelling man to his family's homestead. But the more she learns about him, the secret child who haunts his memories, the more she aches to comfort him make him her own. Can two outcasts–brought together by hard times shared faith–truly find love in so cold heartless a world?

“Hold it right there. I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Kody raised his arms in the air, then turned to locate the source of danger. He almost chuckled at the sight before him. A thin, brown-haired woman, eyes steady, mouth set in a hard line. She held a rifle almost as long as she was tall.

“You ain’t gonna shoot me.”

“Back off or you’ll see what I mean to do,” she said.

Kody took one swift step forward and plucked the rifle from her. He cracked it open to eject the bullet. The chamber was empty. “Lady, you sure got guts.”

“This is my house. Get out.”

She lived here? In a deserted house? Alone?

“Your house, huh?”

“My brother’s. I’m watching it for him.”

“Don’t look like it needs much watching.” The room was about as bare as the miles of windswept fields he’d ridden by. It didn’t take a lot of looking to see the place was vacant. Except for this woman. “What’s anyone going to take?”

LINDA FORD

shares her life with her rancher husband, a grown son, a live-in client she provides care for and a yappy parrot. She and her husband raised a family of fourteen children, ten adopted, providing her with plenty of opportunity to experience God’s love and faithfulness. They had their share of adventures as well. Taking twelve kids in a motorhome on a three-thousand-mile road trip would be high on the list. They live in Alberta, Canada, close enough to the Rockies to admire them every day. She enjoys writing stories that reveal God’s wondrous love through the lives of her characters.

Linda enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her at linda@lindaford.org or check out her Web site at www.lindaford.org, where you can also catch her blog, which often carries glimpses of both her writing activities and family life.

Linda Ford

The Journey Home

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Preserve me, O God, for in thee do I put my trust.

—Psalms 16:1

This book would not be what it is without the help of several key people:

First, my editor, Melissa, who saw what it needed.

Thank you for your guidance and encouragement.

And then two very dear critique partners who listen to me whine and still find ways to point out what I’m doing right and where I should reconsider my direction. To Debbie and Carolyne, thank you both for your continued support, your friendship and your helpful suggestions. If I dedicate every book to you it’s because I couldn’t do it without you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

South Dakota, 1934

He didn’t know why God answered his prayers any more than he could explain why he still said them. But there it stood, the protection he’d moments ago begged God to provide, an old farmhouse, once proud, now with bare windows and a door hanging by one hinge. Deserted by the owners, as were so many places in the drought-stricken plains. The crash of ’29 had left hundreds floundering financially. And years of too little rain resulted in numerous farms abandoned to the elements. He didn’t hold out much hope of 1934 being any different.

Kody Douglas glanced upward. The black cloud towering high into the sky thundered toward him. An eerie yellow light filled the air. A noisy herald of birds flew ahead of the storm. Kody ducked his head against the stinging wind and nudged Sam into a trot. They’d better get inside before the dust storm engulfed them.

In front of the house, he leaped from the saddle, led Sam across the worn threshold and dropped the reins to the floor. Sam would remain where he was parked until Kody said otherwise, but still he felt compelled to make it clear. “You stay here, horse. And don’t go leaving me any road apples. You can wait to do that business outside.”

He grabbed the rattling door and pushed it shut. A hook hung from the frame. The eye remained in the door, and he latched it.